Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 43551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“It’s a little hidden back here.”
“I know. I did that on purpose.” He sighs again. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Put it up front. Own it.”
He cocks his head at me. “I could do that.”
“I mean, I don’t know anything about art or whatever. But you spent the money, and I guess it’s cool looking… so you should just own it.”
“Yeah.” He nods to himself. “I think I can do that.”
We linger there for a minute, looking at the painting. The more I look at it, the more I actually start to like it. Maybe not love it, but just as a pretty thing… it’s not bad.
“Why’d you want to start a publishing company?” I ask him suddenly.
“I’m not sure,” he answers.
That surprises me. “Really? I mean, it’s not like book publishing is a hugely lucrative industry these days, so I figured it was a passion project.”
“It is,” he admits. “But I’m not really even that into art.”
“But you read?”
“Sometimes.” He grins. “Not as often as I want.”
“So you aren’t super into art and you don’t read that often. You don’t sound like the ideal person to run a book publishing company.”
“Right? But I don’t know. I’ve always been drawn to it for some reason. And I want to make actual things that people will actually enjoy.”
“I get that.”
“I should’ve gone into making movies. I watch plenty of movies.” He grins at me and leans against the wall, arms crossed. He cocks his head and looks at me. “What about you? Big reader?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I read a lot.”
“What sort of stuff are you into?”
I shrug. “Junk, mostly.”
“Oh, come on, tell me. This is market research. How do we sell books to young people?”
I grin at him. “Well, old man, first of all, we don’t read physical books that often.”
“Oh, really?” He arches an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of these newfangled electronic books, but I didn’t know the youth was interested.”
“Oh, yes, the youth loves electric books.”
“Seriously. What do you read?”
“Urban fantasy,” I admit. “You know, young girl finds out she had some kind of special magical powers and has to fight off some kind of supernatural demon or whatever. All set in a dark, gritty London.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s fun, but it’s trashy.”
He waves that away. “No such thing as trashy. People want to imagine some things are better for you than others, because it’s art or something like that, but it’s all entertainment. I mean, how many people are reading these big idea books?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Unless Opera is recommending them, not many. I want to publish things people actually read.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He moves closer to me. “Maybe I need your brain more than I realized.”
“How?”
“I’m not a book expert. But you know something about it all, right?”
“I guess a little bit.”
“Good. I might have to pick your brain some more then.”
I feel a thrill run through me. The owner of a new publishing company wants to pick my brain about stuff they should publish. That would be amazing, reading manuscripts, picking books I think are good. Maybe it’s not my dream job, but it’s almost as good at least.
I’m suddenly aware that we’re standing in a back hallway, completely alone, away from everyone else. He’s standing close to me and suddenly my dream from last night comes tumbling back into my mind.
I have to look away from him. Hopefully, he doesn’t realize that I’m blushing.
“How about you have dinner with me again?” he asks. “Let me ask you some questions about your reading habits.”
“If that’s all you want, we can do it here,” I say stupidly.
He smirks and suddenly he’s even closer to me. He tilts my chin up to look into his eyes, and my cheeks are burning red.
“That’s not all I want,” he says softly.
“What else do you want, sir?”
His eyes flash and he steps forward. I step back, running into the wall, the giant canvas just to my right.
He kisses me, pinning me back against the wall. He takes my hair in one hand, holding tight, pulling it into his fist as his lips press against mine.
I feel my blood rise, pumping fast. I’m almost a little dizzy as he kisses me, tongue against my tongue, and I can’t help but let out a little gasping moan. It feels so good to be kissed like this. He’s taking me like a man, pressing my body right against the wall. I know this is wrong, and if someone catches us, there might be problems. But still…
I fall into the kiss. I let my worry disappear. I let myself feel it, enjoy it. I let it rush over my skin.
I try not to think about how much more I want from him, and how much that freaks me out.
Slowly, he breaks away. “Dinner,” he says. “Tonight.”